


Marinette's Abs - Adrien

by OldAnimeFan



Series: Marinette's Abs [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Gen, Marinette's abs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 02:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8515396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldAnimeFan/pseuds/OldAnimeFan
Summary: Marinette trains in karate with Adrien





	

**Author's Note:**

> 2016-11-14 - I edited this story a little, mainly for grammar and punctuation. If you've already read the story, you don't need to read it again as the changes were minor. In fact, you probably won't notice the changes I made.

It was the second week after the class' trip to the beach. It was interesting that the other girls in the class now took my abs for granted.

That first day back at class, the Monday after that Sunday at the beach, the girls all wanted to talk with me, and among themselves, about it. But this was also the start of a new set of subjects in all the classes. So by that Wednesday, I would only hear a couple comments or so a day. And by that Friday, it was more like, "Marinette has abs? So?" But I did notice that in the physical education classes, there were more girls exercising than before, doing many more sit-ups than before. And sometimes I would catch one of them looking at me, probably trying to get a glimpse of my abs. But of course, the loose, tucked-in T-shirts that we wore for gym effectively hid everything. And the change room had those privacy booths, so even then, nothing of my abs was visible. So I didn't have to hide them anymore, since everyone knew about them, and nothing was visible anyway. And even if they were visible, now, with my "secret" out in the open (at least that one), I didn't even worry about it. So by the end of that week, it was sort of as if Sunday hadn't happened, though everyone knew it had.

And, I had returned to my regular, clumsy, self. After all, it wasn't as if I had changed overnight. It was just that one of my secrets had been revealed, and only one of the minor ones at that.

And Chloé had returned to herself that very next day after Sunday too. She was just as snobbish and annoying as ever. That first Monday back, she was even bragging about how she could have taken me in a fair fight, that is until Alya pulled her to one side and had a quick talk with her. She didn't bring up that Sunday any more after that, but she still acted, well, like Chloé.

So, by the next week, things were back to normal.

Mostly.

It was the second week after the class trip to the beach. At that Thursday's physical education class, Mr. D'Argencourt came up to me and asked me to see him in his office after class. All I could think of was that he had heard about me fighting Chloé and he was going to have me expelled from school because of it.

I could see me being dragged away by the police!

I would be locked up in jail, in solitary confinement, and never see the sun again!

I would never see Adrien again!

I would be let out of jail when I was in my 90's!

And when I was let out, Adrien would be married, have three or four children, and 20 or 30 grandchildren, and maybe a hundred great grandchildren!

After class, I meekly knocked on Mr. D'Argencourt's door, entering when he said to. I was really surprised to see Adrien sitting at a second chair in front of his desk, next to what I knew to be my chair, the Chair of Inquisition. I figured he had been called as a Witness for the Prosecution, to faithfully and completely describe me "beating up" Chloé.

"Miss Marinette," he said. "I hear from one of the other girls that you were involved in an altercation with several of the other students."

"So, here it comes," I thought. And of course, that "other girl" just had to be Chloé.

"I hear you were beaten up."

Now this surprised me, though I could definitely see Chloé telling him that.

"That's not exactly how it happened," I replied, meekly.

I was just about to continue, telling my side of the story, and testifying as to how it really happened. But of course, I couldn't tell him the truth, that I had let the other girls punch me in the abs. That just wouldn't do. And I wasn't really sure how he would interpret that. But I would at least be able to correct the statement that I had been beaten up. 

I was just trying to think of a way I could frame that Sunday that would make it seem that I had not been beaten up, but that I had been able to hold my own, when he continued.

"Even if that is so, all last year and so far this year, you seemed to be very, shall we say, uncoordinated at least, and, shall we say, clumsy at most. Even if you do not need to be able to defend yourself, you still need to work on your agility, your balance and your coordination.

"Adrien," he continued. "We will be spending the next few months in physical education doing assignments at which I know you are already skilled. I do not think you would learn anything from these classes. So I'm thinking of giving you a special assignment.

"I know you already know karate well. But do you think you would you be able to teach it? To teach it to Marinette? This would give her a little training in self-defense, but would mainly give her training in balance, poise, coordination and agility, subjects in which she is woefully lacking. If you agree, you would go to the exercise room and teach her instead of going to your regular gym classes. And this would mean that your physical education grade would depend on how well you can teach Marinette the principles of karate."

Adrien said, "Yes, I could train Marinette. It would be a challenge, but I could try to do it."

"Do or do not. There is no 'try,'" he said, his usual, stern look not changing.

Adrien and I looked at each other, but had to look away before we both broke out in laughter. I didn't think Mr. D'Argencourt would be the type of person to have seen that movie from 40 years ago, so he must have come up with that thought independently. (Or maybe he had heard it from someone else, someone, shall we say, younger.)

"And Marinette," he continued. "This would mean that you would be taught by Adrien in the art of karate instead of attending regular gym classes. And this would mean that your physical education grade would depend on how well you learned karate, how fast you progressed in karate."

"You mean," I said, "that I would be alone in the classroom with Adrien?"

"Yes."

"And he will be teaching me himself?" And very specifically, I didn't say the other part of what I was thinking, "...instead of in your boring class?"

"Yes."

Quietly, I squealed to myself, "Eeeeeeee!"

Out loud, I said, "Yes, I could do that."

"All right then,” Mr. D'Argencourt said. "Adrien, Marinette, start next week."

We both nodded to him and left.

"Well Marinette, it looks like we'll be training together starting next week."

"Eeeeeeee!"

"Then I'll see you for karate class next week," I said. "Eeeeeeee!

"Are there some clothes I need to wear, or will my regular gym clothes work?"

"Give me your phone," he said, and he brought up a site on the Internet. "Here's a local store that supplies karate outfits. Contact them and they'll be able to suggest the appropriate uniform for you."

"OK, then I'll see you next week," I said. "Eeeeeeee!

"No," I continued, "I'll see you tomorrow. The karate class will be next week. And I guess I'll see you then, too.

"And come to think of it, I'll see you the day after tomorrow, too.

"No I won’t, will I. That'll be Saturday.

"Unless we see each other on the street.

"And... And...

"And I think I'll just stop talking now..."

Adrien smiled at me and said, "See you," and walked away.

"Eeeeeeee!" Private lessons from Adrien! "Eeeeeeee!"

The next day after school, I went to the store Adrien had suggested. It was filled with so many outfits that I had to ask a clerk what would be used for karate training. They were so busy, I had a tough time tracking down the clerk to help me, and then she just pointed me to a section of the store that was already marked "Karate Outfits" (of course). They were all the same design. They all consisted of a loose-fitting pair of pants with, usually, an elastic waistband, a band with snaps, or a simple drawstring to hold them up. And they had a simple, loose-fitting, long-sleeve shirt that came down to mid-thigh with no closure in the front, that was kept closed at the front only by a cloth strip that tied around the waist. And from the pictures I saw, you could wear an ordinary T-shirt underneath it.

The cloth ranged from heavy, tough, white cotton cloth to a fine, opaque, white silk. And the prices for the whole outfit matched the heaviness of the cloth, ranging from 20 euros to, well, more than the average worker could afford in a year, and that a student could never afford.

The store had a sign posted that you could return the outfit within 30 days if you weren't satisfied with it and it was still in good condition. Since I wasn't planning on using it more than a couple times a week, and I didn't know how strenuous the training would be in those first 30 days, I picked the cheapest, heaviest one there. So if it didn't fit me or I didn't like the feel of it, it would still be in good condition when I returned it at the end of the 30 days. And even the lower-priced ones came with a black belt already included, the color of the belts I had seen in all the online karate videos I had glanced at before going to the store.

Again, the two clerks handling the whole store there were busy when I went to check out. So it took me a half an hour to get to the front of the register line, but less than a minute to hand her the 20 euro note and get the dated receipt.

When I got home, I dressed for fit, noting that I would have to launder the material to get the starch out before using it the first time. Since I had measured the length of the pants and shirt sleeves before I bought them, and with the only other adjustment being the waist, tied by the belt, of course, it fit my body perfectly, or at least as well as its design would permit.

The next physical education class, I went to the exercise room instead of to the classroom with all the other students. Adrien was already there. He was wearing the same style of outfit as I was, I noticed. So at least I wasn't a complete idiot, since we matched that way.

"Uh, Marinette," he said. "The color of the belt indicates the rank of the student. A starting student wears a white belt, not a black one. A black one indicates the wearer is very advanced, through years of training. So..."

"So, I need to get a white belt instead of this black one," I said. So I was a complete idiot after all.

The previous weekend, I had researched karate over the internet. There were hundreds of terms, moves, attacks, defenses and pressure points related to karate. I was completely overwhelmed. If I tried to learn a tenth of them, I'd be in training for years (though training alone with Adrien for years didn't seem that uninviting a proposition, "Eeeeeeee!").

So I was grateful when Adrien said, "Marinette, we'll start out with the basic attacks and defenses in karate. We'll start out with you learning how to punch and kick. You'll also learn how to block those punches and kicks. After you've got those down good enough, we'll start right in on fighting, sparring we call it.

"The typical karate class starts out with you learning how to throw a punch or kick into mid-air, practicing the move with everyone else in the group until everyone has perfected the move. That's the classical karate training. And after a few months of practicing just to get the form perfected, you actually start learning to punch a target, starting out with a punching bag like that one over there," and he pointed to a big, cylindrical leather bag hanging from the roof of the exercise room.

"We don't have months. As Mr. D'Argencourt said, he wants you to learn how to defend yourself and to move gracefully by learning karate. So classical karate training, learning a few hundred different ways to punch, and learning the precise way to block each of those different punching techniques, that's not what we're going to do. Instead, as I said, you're going to learn the proper way to throw a punch, then the proper way to block it, then we'll get directly into sparring. I believe that's the most effective way for you to learn. And I believe it would be more exciting than standing and punching at air for hours at a time.

"Now, let's get started."

Adrien directed me over to that punching bag he had indicated earlier. "Now, punch it."

I punched it.

"Now punch it with your other fist, in the same place."

I punched it again.

Grabbing a roll of medical tape, he put a small cross on the bag where I had hit it.

"OK, see where you punched it?" he said, standing right next to the bag. "See where you would have punched someone my height?" He pointed to the middle of his chest. "Was that where you were aiming to punch?"

I saw his point. Of course, it wasn't where I had planned on punching. It was just where my punch landed. So I guess I needed to pick my target even before I attempted to throw a punch. Now this was useful information. And obvious!

"And," he continued," you punched straight. Try rotating your wrist when you punch. It'll add extra impact to the punch."

"Rotate my...? Extra impact...?" I was just as confused as I sounded.

"Here, I'll show you." And he stood close behind me, put one hand on my shoulder and grabbed my wrist with the other. He then pushed my fist forward into the bag, twisting it 90 degrees counterclockwise at the same time, so my knuckles were horizontal when it hit the bag. "See, that's what I meant."

"Eeeeeeee!" Of course, with Adrien snuggled up close behind me, it took him several times before I stopped thinking about Adrien and started thinking about punching the right way. "Eeeeeeee!"

"Are you all right Marinette? Did that hurt? I thought I heard you whimper a little."

"No, I'm all right.

"Eeeeeeee!"

"Now, let's try another type of punch. Lower your arm and aim lower. Punch like... Pretend that the bag is Chloé and you're punching her in the navel again. But don't rotate your wrist like you did with the straight punch. And angle it upward a little."

I knew exactly what he meant. "OK, so you want me to..." My voice trailed off.

"Wait!" I said. "So you saw me punch Chloé?"

"Marinette, everyone saw you punch Chloé."

I blushed what must have been a bright red at realizing that Adrien...my Adrien...was watching me on the beach that whole time.

Me!

In my bikini!

"Eeeeeeee!"

That was just the start of the first lesson. By the time that first lesson was over, I had learned three different types of punches with both hands, the straight punch, the "Chloé" punch and a punch he called a hook. In the hook punch, you start from one side, either low or high, and twist your body to drive your arm and fist horizontally, hitting the bag from the side or across the front.

Adrien made me practice those three punches the rest of the lesson, calling out, "Left straight! Right hook! Left Chloé!" and expecting me to hit the bag using the appropriate type of punch. A couple times, he held my wrist and guided my arm through the punch... "Eeeeeeee!" ...to show me what I was doing wrong and to correct it. (And no, I wasn't intentionally making mistakes so he would grab me close behind, though it wasn't until after that first lesson that I realized I could have done that.)

So the first lesson was just to show me how to punch. Adrien said I needed to practice that as much as possible, so not only would it become second nature, but that I would become stronger too.

"Girl, where were you at gym class today?" said Alya when we met in my next class.

"I'll tell you later, in private.

"Eeeeeeee!"

I felt invigorated, that is until the next day, when I felt every single punch I had thrown, my arms and upper body aching from the unaccustomed strenuous exercise they had the previous day. This went away by the next lesson two days later or I would have been in real trouble

The next week, two things happened (well, three, if you include my having exchanged the black belt for the beginner's white belt). Now that I knew how to punch, Adrien taught me how to stop each of those punches, to block them or deflect them. That took up all the rest of that next week's lessons.

I also found out I didn't really like the karate uniform, (Adrien called it a Gi), that I had purchased. It was too stiff and heavy, it was much too loose all around and it had the bad habit of riding up and falling down at the most inappropriate times. Yes, I could have tailored it to fit me, but it never would have fit to my liking, and it would have still been much too coarse for me. So after the second week, I returned it.

The store clerk gave me a hard time, and I had to keep pointing to the large, prominent sign displaying the 30 day money-back guarantee, but I had washed it, bleached it and even ironed and starched it, so it actually looked better than the other clothes on the rack. So eventually, they gave me the 20 euros I had paid back.

Of course, this meant I either needed to wear my regular gym clothes the next lesson or make a new outfit. I chose the latter course.

Early that next Saturday morning, I sat down at my computer and designed a new karate outfit. First, I threw out all the classical and traditional designs. I wanted my design to be practical, not traditional. I wasn't going to make it stylish or fashionable, I just wanted it to fit good and feel good when practicing karate. I didn't have any other goals for the design.

I started the design with a set of pants. I needed them to fit snugly on my body, staying snugly in place throughout all the kicks and punches, without binding or riding up anywhere. So for pants, I decided on a simple set of white, slightly-tight-fitting Capris, lengthened down to the tops of my feet, with a wide, reinforced, elastic top edge to hold them up. To this design, I added a simple set of large loops at a few places on the top edge of the pants to hold up the required white karate sash, to keep it from slipping either up or down. The sash would ride right along the top edge of the pants but wouldn't actually be needed to hold the pants up, so it could be as tight or loose as required to allow for flexibility without binding.

For the top, I designed another slightly-tight-fitting T-shirt style design. It had medium-long sleeves that stopped just short of the elbows. This allowed the T-shirt to cover my arm muscles, my biceps, so they would not be that visible, since no one had noticed that I had grown arm muscles to match my abs muscles. But since everyone already had seen my abs, I decided to make the top somewhat daring by letting all of my abs muscles remain visible, cropping the design of the bottom edge fairly high. This also had the effect of allowing for cooling air to wash over my body, something I noticed was badly needed when I was in that hot karate outfit I had purchased. And since Adrien had already seen me in my bikini at the beach, and my abs, I thought I'd show them off a little more, just for him.

I had the design done by early Saturday morning. Now, I needed to find the material I would use for it. The fabric must be light, light enough to keep me cool, but flexible enough to fit tightly in my design. It needed to be strong enough for me to fight in without ripping or fraying. It needed to be absorbent to handle the sweat that would probably be streaming off me, but not show any stains from that sweat. And it most certainly should not turn transparent when soaking wet from that sweat.

I spent over two hours on the Internet looking for the right fabric. I found a light fabric of a cotton, polyester blend that was exactly what I needed. And it looked like it was available in some of the fabric shops in Paris.

Saturday afternoon, I went over to my local fabric shop. They didn't have the fabric I needed in white, but after calling around to other shops, that all said they didn't have it but could get it, we finally found one with it in stock. The other shop said they would send the fabric over via motorcycle courier, the best way to get around Paris in the weekend traffic. While I waited for the delivery, I picked out all the other accouterments I needed for the outfit.

It was Saturday night when I got home with everything I needed. So I only had time to get out my Husqvarna sewing machine, the one my parents had given me for one of my birthdays, the one that was so well-made that I had already planned to give it to my children when I grew too old to sew any more.

Sunday morning, I got up early. I was so eager to start, that I actually got up before my alarm went off, almost unheard of for me.

I created a paper pattern from the design and cut the fabric to the pattern. But before I did anything else, I attached the Husqvarna to my computer and embroidered the fabric that would be the top with the custom flower design I put on all my clothes, the same one I put on the T-shirts I made for school.

I then sewed up the whole outfit with tack stitching and tried it on. After I made a couple needed adjustments (that I added back into the original computer design and the paper pattern, so I wouldn't forget them when I made another copy of the outfit), I re-sewed all the seams using a strong thread I had purchased and an extra-heavy stitch pattern, one that wouldn't break or pull out under the stress of all that fighting, but would stretch with the fabric. It would leave the seams almost invisible under all conditions and movement.

So now the outfit was done. But before I did anything else, I tried it on for fit, going through all the karate moves I had been taught so far, looking in my three full-length mirrors to see how it behaved, feeling how tight or loose it was on me. Much more than I could have hoped, it stretched and conformed to my body perfectly all over, not bunching up or showing even the slightest wrinkle when I squatted down, stretched out or twisted any part of my body. It was as though I were wearing my Ladybug outfit, though that outfit stayed glued to my body via the Miraculous magic, as Lady Wifi had found out.

I really liked my new outfit, the design, how it fit, how it made me look, all of it.

By now, it was late Sunday evening. I cleaned up the scraps and carefully put away the remaining fabric, more than enough to make a second and maybe a third copy. I had one more test for it, the acid test, throwing the outfit into the automatic washer and drier set at their most harsh settings. I don't know what I would have done if I had ended up with a pile of rags, or even if it had puckered up at all the seams, but the outfit survived with no problems of any kind. It looked the same after the washing as it did before, exactly the same.

I was tired, but I still had one more thing to do. Going onto the Internet, I spent a couple hours visiting several French Government and EU Government sites, well over two hours of clicking from link to link, then filling in what seemed like hundreds of forms. So it was really late on Sunday that I finally got to bed.

Monday, at the time scheduled for my physical education class, I dressed in my new outfit and went to the exercise room. Adrien was already there.

"Marinette, today we're going to... Marinette!"

Obviously, he had seen my new outfit.

"I didn't like the other outfit. It was too stiff and loose. So I made this one. Do you think it will do?"

It took Adrien a little while to answer. It wasn't that he was examining my new outfit, it was more that he didn't know what to say. Ever since I had known him, I had never seen him at a loss for words.

Until now.

"Well," he finally said, "It's not the traditional outfit for karate training."

"Oh," I said dejected. "In that case, I'll..."

"No, you misunderstand me. It's not a traditional karate Gi. But it suits you. Suits you perfectly. You said you made it?"

"Yeah. I didn't like the other ones I had seen."

After another little pause, this time after examining over my outfit in more detail, and with closer attention, he said, "OK, then let's begin, shall we? This week, we're going to review all those punches from last week, and we're going to learn how to counter all those punches. So let's begin."

For the next week, I learned a few new punches, and how to counter all of them. I also practiced all the punches he had taught me, to build up my speed, power and stamina. And over the next few weeks, we got into karate kicks and their counters and started into sparring, the actual fighting part. So after the first month, I had a very rudimentary knowledge of karate, with many different types of punches and kicks and their counters.

I also had a good taste of how to string those techniques together in an actually fight. Of course, Adrien was so much better than I was that he could avoid or counter all my attacks. And when he attacked, he always pulled his punches, but attacked with increasing frequency as we fought more and more.

One more thing. I had told you that Mr. D'Argencourt was going to grade us on how well Adrien trained and how well I learned. To that end, periodically during our training, usually once or so per day, he would pop his head in and observe us. I don't know if he was actually grading us, or just making sure we weren't slacking off, but he wouldn't look at us for more than a few seconds, then quietly close the door and leave.

Of course, this wasn't the only grading he did, but more on that later.

And then there was Chloé.


End file.
